The abbé informs me that at Chanteloup the devil has been taken in a trap; that he has the size of a cat, the skin of a tiger, the tail of a lemur, and the muzzle of a stone-marten; and that he reeks fit to bowl one over. The abbé questioned him and, as he replied nothing, concluded him an idiot; and is confirmed in the opinion which he has always held, that the devil does not have the wit which is commonly supposed.

*

From the context of the letter it is evident that neither the abbé nor Mme. du Deffand took this fascinating episode seriously. So the deadpan satire with which she wrote of it elevates a depressing example of anachronistic superstition — hopefully the poor animal, possibly a skunk, wasn't maltreated — into a flight of shrewd whimsy.

The continuing relevance of the story itself is proven, for example, by the great time and thought which the North American media devote to the Montauk Monster and other mysterious foundling creatures. Every century appears to require its mythology.

Little Reads

Little Reads

The best way to keep chemical attacks from reoccurring is to finally use measures that the UN put in place to prosecute people whom we suspect have perpetrated them, suggests a doctor who is working in Syria. He also describes the wearisome repetition of ultimately senseless questions from journalists after each chemical attack within the past five years.

I wish journalists would stop asking such questions because the world, which didn’t care about what happened then, will not care about what will happen tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

[...]

“What happened on the day after the massacre?” the journalist continues. There is a span of several hours that I can’t remember. It seems that my mind has tried not to remember those twelve hours. It is very painful to remember that day. So please stop asking me about it.

I first heard of Madame de Lafayette's column when President Nicolas Sarkozy lamented that her novel Princesse de Clèves was read by reluctant school pupils like his younger self.

Now a second one of de Lafayette's works has gained a political significance. La Princesse de Montpensier is entering France's literature baccalaureate programme to bring an end to a long absence of female authors.

Under this Guardian article, the readers' comments, while sometimes harsh or arbitrary, are also insightful and witty.

(But I don't feel drawn to either of Madame de Lafayette's books after reading these descriptions.)

A sober, but blunt and subliminally angry, look at the major decisions, in their style and in their substance, that the current United States government has taken since its inauguration in January.

The writer shares and illustrate the far-ranging unease with which Americans see the new (dis)order in Washington, Americans even in the political circles of which the Administration is usually a semi-symbiotic element.

Her very first lines are, to borrow the language of naval warfare, a 'shot across the bows':

Donald Trump’s substance-free approach to governing may be comfortable for him but it’s caused his presidency big problems. To take the most prominent example, the health care bill: